| hmmph... |
[Oct. 19th, 2009|07:50 pm] |
"look at any word long enough and you will see it open up into a series of faults, into a terrain of particles each containing its own void. this discomforting language of fragmentation offers no easy gestalt solution; the certainties of didactic discourse are hurled into the erosion of the poetic principle. poetry being forever lost must submit to its own vacuity; it is somehow a product of exhaustion rather than creation. poetry is always a dying language but never a dead language."
- robert smithson
some dude talking about something i don't care much to read about but something that opens up into something other than that one thing. or something...
one day when i write my book "Theories on the Human Condition" and i rant and rant about all the theories i have come up with to why every waking being on this planet is purely IDIOTIC (things to be included: theory on why dumb girls wear pjs in public, theory connecting the bizarre idea of traffic to people's stupidity), i will also discuss the blurred lines that exist between ideas like words/poetry, language/nothingness, dreams/reality (there will be a whole book, maybe short story collection, on how we confuse dreams and reality so easy... am i dreaming now? i wanna read that one french philosopher, Jean Boudriard, that the matrix is based off of... hate the matrix, love this dude's ideas) and this quote from this dude who is writing about earth works (wha??) will be included. |
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| if you don't like seinfeld . . . well nevermind. HI LESLIE!!! |
[Sep. 29th, 2009|07:05 pm] |
| [ | _I am listening to_ |
| | lucero forever | ] | the first chilly day. the first day to wear tights. the first day to close the windows. the first day to order a hot coffee. the first day to think back to that winter. my enter key doesn't work. where do the people who used to love go? do you think they still love, without interruption? my enter key doesn't work. why does it haunt me still? the enter key still doesn't work. there aren't enough colored rectangles to scribble. there isn't enough paper to draw on, canvas to paint, lines to write, jeans to sew, organs to hear, melodies to listen to. it has only just begun, and you will follow me in my footsteps through the snow this winter, just like the last. until the spring comes again and the road takes me to a new city the whisper of that voice will ring on. the enter key does not work. -return- my ghost will be a ghost among your ghost and we can be shadows together in the thoughts that stroll through the pathways of my head under the blankets that used to be whole. enter enter enter... |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 4th, 2009|02:17 am] |
"For nearly a year i lived in a world that seemed, at first, like something original. It was obvious from the beginning that the menace bore little resemblance to its publicized image, but there was a certain pleasure in sharing the [ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<_____'_>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] "For nearly a year i <have> lived in a world that seemed, at first, like something original. It was obvious from the beginning that the menace bore little resemblance to its publicized image, but there was a certain pleasure in sharing the <_____'_> amusement at the stir they'd created. Later, as they attracted more and more attention, the mystique was stretched so thin that it finally became transparent. One afternoon as I sat in the <_______> and watched a(n) <_____> sell a handful of barbiturate pills to a brace of pimply punks no more than sixteen, I realized that the roots of this act were not in any time-honored American myth but right beneath my feet in a new kind of society that is only beginning to take shape. To see the <_____> as caretakers of the old "individualist" tradition "that made this country great" is only a painless way to get around seeing them for what they really are -- not some romantic leftover, but the first wave of a future that nothing in our history has prepared us to cope with. The <_____> are prototypes. Their lack of education has not only rendered them completely useless in a highly technical economy, but it has also given them the leisure to cultivate a powerful resentment . . . and to translate it into a destructive cult which the mass media insists on portraying as a sort of isolated oddity, a temporary phenomenon that will shortly become extinct now that it's been called to the attention of the police.------------------------ The outlaw stance is patently antisocial, although most <_____>, as individuals, are naturally social creatures. The contradiction is deep-rooted and has parallels on every level of American society. Sociologists call it "alienation" or "anomie". It is a sense of being cut off, or left out of whatever society one was presumably meant to be a part of. In a strongly motivated society the victims of anomie are usually extreme cases, isolated from each other by differing viewpoints or personal quirks too private for any broad explanation. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|11:33 pm] |
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1 never trust a cop in a raincoat 2 beware of enthusiasm and of love-each is temporary and quick to sway 3 when asked if you care about the world's problems look deep into the eyes of he who asked and he will not ask you again 4&5 never give your real name and whenever told to look at yourself never look 6 never say or do anything the person standing in front of you cannot understand 7 never create anything it will be misinterpreted it will chain you and follow you the rest of your life it will never change |
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| tonight... |
[May. 29th, 2009|10:45 pm] |
i am perched in the window of my new found room on the bed i have found myself in love and in circles. there was a harmonica traveling down the sidewalk and it gave me the goosebumps of all the possibilities found in its charming sound. the apartment we moved into today still smells of the old lady that never woke up in the room that is now mine. i think i am still waiting for her ghost (?) to be tapping me on the shoulder asking for her space back.
my brain is often consumed by dreaming of being on the highway crossing state lines holding the hands of my two best. the gypsy drift is slowly becoming my second home, and it is going to carry us across the country.
the feeling of walking to a new home is such an eerie one. the woman who reminds me of marla has her car parked outside, and i am still wondering if that is her bedroom. there is never a moment where she is not whispering to herself under her breath, and i am just hoping that one of these times we cross paths i will be able to hear what she is saying. even though i am just an alley away from the past it is like i am learning a whole new world. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 19th, 2009|12:36 am] |
i love traditionals bob dylan covers then covers of bob dylan traditionals covers by people i love
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| hahahah what a joke |
[Apr. 29th, 2009|10:48 pm] |
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A tough decision awaits and timing is key. Ponder it long enough and the answer becomes clear; wait too long and someone else will answer it for you. |
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| oh but, here's a pretty poem i wish i read before the winter was over... |
[Apr. 27th, 2009|11:18 pm] |
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound of the wind, In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land Full of the same wind That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
-- Wallace Stevens |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 27th, 2009|11:15 pm] |
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when i thought i saw it all, the cta ceased to amaze me. this evening i had to switch seats due the the most awful, foul smell coming from what the man in front of me was eating. it was either sardines (my first guess), spam, or cat food (not even joking, and i really do think it was cat food). licking the can clean. he licked the can clean. oh and was eating whatever it was with saltines. this far surpasses the time i witnessed a man doing a line of coke sitting across from me on the bus. humans disgust me. one at a time. on a daily basis. |
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| 2 |
[Apr. 22nd, 2009|08:35 pm] |
today the sky is darker than your heart and the street lights are paving the way through the madness you have created in my thoughts in a city that seems so gray through each and every part, its a wonder how your words have created all the exhaust. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 20th, 2009|12:41 am] |
I've so dreamed of you that you've lost your reality I've so dreamed of you so walked, spoken, slept with your ghost that nothing remains for me perhaps, and yet, but to be a ghost among ghosts and a hundred times more like a shadow than the shadow that strolls and will stroll lightly on the sundial of your life.
(J'ai tant reve de toi que tu perds ta realite J'ai tant reve de toi tant marche, parle, couche avec ton fantome qu'il ne me reste plue peut-etre, et pourtant, qu'a etre fantome parmi les fantomes et plus ombre cent fois que l'ombre qui se promene et se promenera allegrement sur le cadran solair de ta vie.)
--Robert Desnos |
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| 1 |
[Apr. 16th, 2009|10:48 pm] |
| [ | _I am listening to_ |
| | young widows | ] | the monotony of this town is saddening after 3 days my boring bones became restless and i have your heart to thank for being so warming to the chaos of our lives fore our new found love cured the mess. the loneliness of this town is uneasy after 3 hours my racing thoughts start reappearing ghosts of lovers past linger in my memory but i'll fight them in the busy streets to treasure you and i kissing. |
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| i got jokes |
[Apr. 9th, 2009|11:07 pm] |
what's brown and rhymes with snoop?
Dr. Dre!!!!!!! |
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| i got jokes |
[Apr. 2nd, 2009|07:28 pm] |
where do you find a dog with no legs?
exactly where you left it! |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 11th, 2009|11:52 pm] |
remember me, try your best cause in the mornin i'm gonna preform selective memory loss my thoughts are being erased as for you, there will be no trace lacuna inc. make me sober as romantic possessions are handed over
instead of dreamin bout you subtle details fade from my view this mind will be wiped as i sleep instead of remembering you subtle details fade from my view my mind will be wiped as i sleep and when i wake, i'll hope it wasn't fake. |
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| seriously cutest thing ever |
[Feb. 7th, 2009|11:56 pm] |
| [ | _I am listening to_ |
| | ben kweller | ] | All anyone can ever want is a co-pilot Someone to leave this town and Up and start a secret And when you sneak out at night I'll kiss you right between your eyes |
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| tonight... |
[Feb. 1st, 2009|12:17 am] |
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it is incomprehensible how much longer i have for the ability to endure this winter; it's been one of the most continuous, drawn out of my existence. all these ideas are running through my head, too many convictions to carry out just one. it seems as though if i caught a glimpse of you it would be hard to discern your features. this is only the half of it... the yellow snow epidemic, utterly bitter floors, not having one seinfeld i have not examined, and the inability to give life to my computer are my main burdens in actuality. other than that, i find peace in brainstorming at the coffee shop just a few strides away, practicing yoga on my living room floor, gazing/drooling over fashion throughout the world, cuddling under my electric blanket, and daydreaming of days past and present spent under the heat of the sun with those i love. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 22nd, 2009|09:55 am] |
You're an idiot, babe. It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 21st, 2009|02:31 am] |
early spring, a chilly night, they walked hand in hand. a few blocks down sacramento things hadn't gone the way she had planned. weeks earlier he told her he'd be the moon that watches her at night. and now she was trying to resist him with all her might. gasping for air, the pain was clear. they loved each other dangerously. there was no time, but their fingers intertwined. "i will never give you up" he told me. cause baby, your dark horse is trotting down my alley. as she kneels on her young knees you add another girl to the tally. smoke another cigarette in bed as the winter night wastes away. in the morning when you're gone there'll still be so much more left to say. in front of the massive house on the corner he stopped. disregarding the cold she shook as he made her kiss him before they walked. ghosts of the weeks past released into the brisk night air, as he said he'd be the sun in the morning to warm her cheeks eliminating her fear. searching for hope, his words were enough to cope with the dreadful truth that awaited. soon he'd have to do what he was supposed to, and the beauty of their love would be lost and faded. well baby, your dark horse is trotting down her alley. as she kneels on her young knees you add another girl to the tally. smoke another cigarette in bed as the winter night wastes away. in the morning when you're gone there'll still be so much more left to say. now these visions of the past are conquering my mind. keeping me up all night, memories crawling up my spine. oh dear doctor, what can i do to erase what i know? for this lover from before keeps hauntin me though i know he's a foe. so baby, your dark horse is trotting down my alley. as she kneels on her young knees you add another girl to the tally. smoke another cigarette in bed as the winter night wastes away. in the morning when you're gone there'll still be so much more left to say. she wants to hear your silly laugh again just one more time, and she hates hates hates that you always end up on her mind. just let her know you're coping with livin; are you wondering if she dreams of you or how she's doin? sometimes she can't help but see your face on every bill board and poster, and hopes when she rides the bus you'll be standing on that corner. cause baby, your dark horse is trotting down her alley, as she kneels on her young knees you add another girl to the tally. smoke another cigarette in bed as the winter night wastes away. in the morning when you're gone there'll still be so much more left to say. |
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